t 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/thefamblyalbuman00wing_0 


The  Fambly  Album 

Another  “Fotygraft  Album/’  Shown 
to  the  New  Preacher  by 
Rebecca  Sparks  Peters 
Aged  Eleven 


The 

Bigger  Album  from  Upstairs” 


Drawings  and  Text  by 

Frank  Wing 


The  Reilly  & Britton  Co. 

Chicago 


Copyright,  iqi; 

by 

The  Reilly  & Britton  Co. 


'"The  Fambly  Album' 


“Oh!  so  this  is  RevVunt  Pittinger?  I'm 
awful  glad  t’  meet  yuh.  Couldn't  git  out  t’ 
church  last  Sunday,  ’cause  I was  jist  gittin’ 
over  th’  chicken  pox.  Ma  says  your  sermon 
was  awful  nice.  She  ain’t  t’  home,  I’m  sorry 
t’  say.  She’s  went  over  t’  Baird’s  t’  show  ’m 
her  new  crazy-quilt,  but  I reckon  she’ll  be 
back  after  a bit.  Set  down  and  make  yerself 
t’  home. 

“Le’s  see,  what’ll  we  do?  We  got  some  daisy 
new  ster’opticun  views,  but  ma’s  lent  ’m. 
There’s  th’  fambly  album,  though — Gramma 
Sparks’s.  Would  yuh  like  t’  look  at  that?  All 
right;  wait  till  I fetch  a chair. 

“This  here  first  one’s  Rev’runt  Dinwiddie. 
I reckon  yuh  know  him,  and  ef  yuh  do,  yuh 
know  a mighty  nice  man,  ’s  all  I got  t’  say. 
Seems  like  I jist  can’t  git  ust  t’^  his  bein’  gone. 

“Turn  over.” 


“This  here’s  Emil  Klaus.  He  used  t’  run 
a shop  here  but  now  he’s  a teacher  in  a barber 
college  up  t’  Chicago.  Perfessor  Klaus,  of  th’ 
chair  of  applied  bay  rum,’  pa  calls  him.  Mebbe 
pa  knows  what  that  means,  but  it’s  got  me 
faded. 

“Look  how  he’s  standin’ — jest  like  he  was 
sayin’,  ‘Next  gent!’ 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“This  here’s  her  that  was  Maizie  Burg- 
stresser,  ma’s  cousin,  down  t’  Beardstown,  but 
now  she’s  Hence  Trickle’s  wife.  Pa  says  she’s 
well  named,  fer  if  she  don’t  look  corn-fed,  he 
don’t  want  a cent.  Yuh  could  go  through 
me  weth  a fine-tooth  comb  and  not  find  th’ 
meanin’  uh  that. 

“One  time  ma  was  a-showin’  this  album  t’ 
somebody  and  she  got  t’  tellin’  ’m  about 
Maizie’s  romance,  as  she  calls  it.  ‘Yuh  see,’ 
ma  says,  ‘there  was  two  fellers  after  her  and 
she  couldn’t  decide  betwixt  ’m;  so  fin’Iy  they 
took  and  played  seven-up  fer  her,  and  Hence 
won,’  she  says. 

“Pa,  he  picked  up  th’  album  and  took  a good 
look  at  Maizie,  then  he  says,  ‘Oh,  I dunno,’ 
he  says ; and  say ! but  it  made  ma  hoppin’  mad ! 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“That’s  her  that  was  Puella  Farnum,  and 
her  man,  Barney  Laden,  that  ust  t’  work  on 
our  farm.  Ma,  she  give  ’m  a dandy  weddin’ 
and  ever’ thing  would’ve  jist  went  fine,  only  of 
course  pa  had  t’  go  and  spoil  it  all.  When  it 
come  his  turn  t’  congratcherlate  ’m  he  steps 
up  t’  Barney  and  says,  ‘Barney,’  he  says,  ‘you 
shore  have  got  a fine  girl,  even  ef  she  ain’t 
exactly  fer  exhibition  purposes,’  he  says. 

“Well,  sir,  ef  it  hadn’t  be’n  fer  some  uh  th’ 
other  men  Barney’d  ’a’  jumped  pa,  right  there. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“Marty  Dunnegan,  that  is,  jist  a neighbor  boy 
of  ourn  one  time,  but  now  he  lives  t’  Kewanee. 
A long  time  after  this  was  took  he  got  him  a 
wooden  laig,  ’cause  an  in-gine  had  took  off  his 
real  one,  and  onct  when  he  was  a>playin’  ball, 
why,  he  was  a-stumpin’  in  from  third  base  fer 
a tally,  when  th’  ketcher  gits  th’  ball  and  runs 
t’  tech  Marty  weth  it.  Marty  tried  t’  dodge 
by,  but  th’  ketcher  nabbed  him;  but  Marty’s 
laig,  it  come  off  and  slid  acrosst  th’  home  base. 
Pa  was  empire  and  he  called  Marty  safe, 
’cause  one  uh  his  feet  teched  th’  base,  yuh 
know. 

“Say!  they  never  done  a thing  but  chased 
pa  clean  home,  th’  other  side  did.’’ 


“That’s  Tracy  Sedjwick.  He’s  a kind  of  a 
distance  cousin  uh  pa’s  and  he  ust  t’  run  part 
of  a sideshow  round  t’  fairs  and  sich  places.  He 
had  a bairded  lady.  It  was  jist  his  wife,  yuh 
know,  weth  hair  out’n  a mattress  stuck  onto 
her  face,  but  most  people  never  guessed  it.  He 
called  her,  ‘A/-uss,  th’  won-dah,  th’  o-o-only 
oneuverkind’ — ^jist  like  that.  Pa,  he  purty  nigh 
made  Trace  mad  one  time  by  hollerin’  out  before 
a big  crowd,  ‘I  hope  that’s  so!”’ 


“That’s  young  Pete  Burgstresser.  He’s  a 
reg’lar  sport — be’n  more  trouble  ‘t’  his  folks 
than  all  th’  rest  of  th’  boys  put  together. 
Us't  t’  be  an  awful  loafer,  too,  but  now  he’s 
got  a dandy  job  brakin’  on  a freight  on  th’ 
main  line  t’  th’  ’B-urg. 

“One  time,  why  there  was  an  ad-ver-tise-ment 
in  th’  paper  fer  a book.  It  said,  ‘Send  one 
dollar  fer  th’  greatest  book  of  all  times.  Pro- 
hibbyted  in  some  countries.  Every  lollapa- 
loozer  should  have  one.’  Pete,  he  sent  in  his 
dollar  and  got  back  a little  testament  worth 
about  fifteen  cents,  as  books  go.  Gosh!  but 
he  was  mad.” 


“Jake  Turner,  that  is,  th'  laziest  feller  in  seven 
counties;  but  you’d  jist  ort  t’  hear  him  play  th’ 
juice  harp!  Say!  but  he  cert’nly  kin  make  thet 
thing  talk ! 

“T’other  day  Mrs.  Turner  come  over  t’  our 
house  t’  help  ma  boil  soap,  and  pa  says,  ‘Morn- 
in’,  Sairey;  where’s  Jake  and  what’s  he  doin’ 
these  days?’  Sairey,  she  never  stopped  work  a 
secont,  but  answers  right  back,  ‘Oh,  he’s  t’ 
home;  and  he  ain’t  doin’  nothin’  only  showin’ 
how  hard  he  kin  set,’  she  says.’’ 


“Ma's  cousin,  Marie  Ant’nette  Sparks.  She 
ain’t  never  had  very  good  health  and  one  time 
when  she  was  awful  sick  and  they  had  a con- 
sul’ation  uh  doctors,  I guess  it  is  yuh  call  it, 
old  Doc  Blithers,  he  says  t’  th’  others,  ‘I’d 
rec’mend  givin’  her  a grain  uh  strychnine’ — 
I guess  it  was;  anyhow,  th’  other  doctors  says, 
‘Why,  man,  it’ll  kill  her!’  ‘Well,’  says  Doc, 
‘what  ef  it  does?  She  ain’t  worth  a cuss  as  she 
is,’  he  says. 

“Well,  sir,  they  done  it,  and  Marie’s  alive  yit. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


‘‘This  here’s  Jabez  Henry,  a feller  thatustt’ 
work  fer  Gramma  Sparks.  They’re  awful  funny 
people,  them  Henrys.  Jabe’s  father,  he’s  a 
turribul  hand  t’  blow,  and  one  time  he  says,  ‘I 
kin  pitch  more  hay’n  ary  man  in  Peory  County, 
and  Cash  kin  pitch  as  much  as  I kin !’  he  says. 
Cash  was  one  of  his  other  sons.  His  real  name’s 
Cashus,  after  one  of  them  old  Roman  kings, 
yuh  know. 

“One  time,  when  Jabe  was  a little  feller,  he 
says  t’  his  pa,  ‘Dad,’  he  says,  ‘your  head  looks 
like  a hurrah’s  nest,’  he  says — and  now  look  at 
him,  will  yuh?  He’s  prouder’n  all  git  out  uh 
that  buzzly  hair,  Jabe  is.’ 


“Del  Sedjwick,  that  is,  brother  t’  Trace, 
and  his  pardner  onct  in  th’  show  business.  He 
ust  t’  have  a speech,  Del  did,  somethin’  like 
this:  ‘Before  gradgeratin’  from  Oxford  Uni- 

versity, friends,  I learnt  that  Dante,  that 
great  Eye-talian  poet,  onct  says  t’  a poet  called 
Virgil:  ‘What  my  eyes  shall  see  my  heart  shall 
believe,’  he  says — and  so  on.  It  was  a daisy 
speech,  only  pa  says,  ‘Them  fellers  lived  over 
a thousand  years  apart,  Del!’  ‘That  so?’  says 
Del.  ‘Well,  it  might  ’a’  be’n  a million  and  these 
jays  wouldn’t  know  no  differ’nt.  Know  any- 
body that  lived  a million  years  ahead  uh Dante? 
I'd  jist  as  leave  use  him,’  he  says.’’ 


“Katie  O’Halloran,  that  is.  Her  full  name’s 
Katherine  Ursula  Veronica  O’Halloran,  but 
don’t  nobody  call  her  that. 

“Ef  she  knowed  we  was  keepin’her  pitchure 
in  here  she’d  burn  our  house  down,  I guess,  fer 
she  hates  pa  somethin’  scand’lous.  One  time 
our  cow  got  into  her  garden  and  tromped  it  and 
th’  next  time  she  seen  pa,  Katie  give  him  an  awful 
tongue  lashin’,  and  there  ain’t  nobody  can  do  it 
better.  Pa,  he  jist  stood  there  grinnin’  and 
took  it,  but  when  Katie  got  out  uh  breath  pa 
sings  out,  ‘ “Aha !’’  she  cried,  and  she  waved  her 
wooden  laig.’  That  made  Katie  jist  crucify  in’ 
mad,  fer  she  ain’t  got  no  wooden  laig,  yuh  know, 
and  she  grabbed  a mop  and  chased  pa  clean 
home.’’ 


“William  Tecumsy  Sherman  Sparks,  that  is. 
He  don’t  seem  t’  most  people  t’  be  s’  awful 
bright,  but  ma  says  all  he  needs  is  a few  more 
years  and  some  edjacation  t’  round  him  out. 
Pa  says  what  th’  boy  needs  fer  that  is  victuals, 
and  t’  stop  growin’. 

“Onct  pa  was  havin’  a kind  of  a jokin’ 
argyment  weth  Tecumsy  and  says  t’  him, 
‘Fer  it  would  be  better  ef  a millstone  was  hung 
onto  yer  neck’ — and  so  on;  I don’t  know  th’ 
rest,  but  it’s  Scripture,  yuh  know— and  Te- 
cumsy, he  snarls  out,  ‘Aw!  that  darned  Shake- 
speare ag’inl’  he  says. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“This  here’s  old  Fount  Watson.  He’s  th’ 
greatest  hand  t’  blow  yuh  ever  seen,  ’bout  what 
he  could  do  when  he  was  'at  himself,’  as  he  calls 
it,  meanin’  when  he  was  his  best,  yuh  know. 
One  time,  when  he  was  a-j awin’  along,  pa  says 
t’  him,  right  quick,  ‘Fount,’  he  says,  ‘yuh  never 
seen  th’  day  when  yuh  could  cheat  a man  out’n 
his  eye  teeth!’, he  says;  and  before  he  thought 
old  Fount  hollers  out,  ‘Yuh  bet  b’gosh  I could 
— when  I was  at  myself.’ 

“Turn  over.” 


“Major  Bill  Gowdey,  that  is,  an  old  soldier 
that  ain’t  never  goin’  t’  let  nobody  fergit  it, 
pa  says.  He  carries  round  th’  bullet  that 
wownded  him  in  th’  back  at  Anty-tam,  Major 
does,  wrapped  up  in  a piece  uh  tishuh  paper, 
and  shows  it  t’  ever’body.  People  gits  almighty 
tired  uh  that  bullet,  and  one  day  pa  says  t’ 
him,’  Maje,’  he  says,  ‘it’d  ’a’  be’n  a God’s  mercy 
t’  th’  rest  of  us  ef  they’d  ’a’  left  that  slug  in  yer 
own  tishuh,’  he  says. 

“Sa-a-y,  but  th’  Major  was  mad  at  pa!  Him 
and  him  purty  nigh  had  a fight.’’ 


“That’s  Percy  Reed.  He's  city  editor  of  th’ 
Hillsboro  Post.  Yuh  wouldn’t  think,  t’  look 
at  him,  that  he  was  ever  a green  gawk  of  a 
country  feller,  but  he  was.  Pa  says  th’  first 
job  they  give  Percy  when  he  went  t’  work  fer 
th’  paper  was  t’  go  out  t’  see  Bishop  Finnegan. 
An  old  lady  housekeeper  come  t’  th’  door  and 
Percy  says,  ‘Is  Bishop  Finnegan  t’  home?’  he 
says.  ‘No,’  says  th’  lady.  ‘Well,  then,’  says 
Percy,  ‘is  Mrs.  Finnegan  t’  home?’  he  says. 

“Yuh  see,  th’  joke  was  that  th’  bishop  was  a 
bacheldor — but  what  I can’t  see  is,  how  was 
Percy  to  know  that? 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“That  there’s  Miz  Hogue,  ‘as  great  a rascal 
as  ever  went  unhung,’  ma  says;  but  pa,  he 
kind  o’  admires  him’  cause  he  took  pa  in  onct, 
good. 

“Yuh  see,  he’s  a footracer,  Miz  is,  and  an 
almighty  fast  one.  He  was  cousin  t’  th’  minister 
of  our  church  (Rev’runt  Swope,  th’  secont  one 
back  before  you  come)  and  one  time  he  come 
here,  all  duded  up  and  wearin’  a plug  hat,  t’ 
visit.  He  ’tended  all  th’  church  meetin’s  and 
took  part  a little,  sometimes ; and  he  done  his 
runnin’  on  th’  cinder  road  up  t’  th’  cemet’ry. 
Ever’body  admired  him,  he  was  s’  polite  and 
could  run  s’  fast. 

/‘Well,  by-m-by  he  took  pa  and  one  or  two 
other  men  to  one  side  and  told  ’m  he  had  a 
match  on  weth  a feller  he  could  beat  a mile  and 
that  it  was  a good  chanct  fer ’m  t’  make  some 
money.  Told  ’m  not  t’  whisper  it  t’  a soul, 
’cause  he  didn’t  want  th’  preacher  t’  know 
that  he  was  a perfeshnul  and  run  fer  money. 

“Well,  th’  long  and  short  of  it  was,  pa  lost 
two  hundred  dollars.  Yuh  see,  Miz  thro  wed 
th’  race  t’  th’  other  feller  and  they  skipped  out 
together.  Pa  says^  Preacher  Swope  looked 
purty  glum  fer  a spell  after  that,  and  he  won- 
dered, pa  did,  whether  it  was  altuhgether 
sorruh  over  th’  lost  es-tate  uh  Miz  that  made 
him,’’ 


“That  there’s  Shedrach  Meeshach  Ab-indigo 
Parsons,  and  he’s  an  awful  good  feller,  I want 
yuh  t’  know,  even  ef  he  ain’t  white.  He  ust  t’ 
be  in  Sedjwick  Brother^’  Grand  ’Malgamated 
Shows.  He  was  called  ‘Th’  Bood-hi,  Hindu 
Wonder,’  and  it  was  his  business  t"  be  dressed 
in  a turban  and  a robe,  like  all  them  Eye-talian 
people  is,  yuh  know,  when  they’re  t’  home,  and 
t’  tell  fortunes;  only,  first  Del’d  have  him  stand 
out  in  front  where  people  could  see  him,  then 
Del’d  bow  down  low  t’  him  and  say,  ‘Oh!  mas- 
ter, wilt  thou  condescend  t’  greet  th’  people?’ 
Shed,  he’d  look  awful  solemn  and  bug  out  his 
eyes  and  roll  ’m,  and  by-m-by  he’d  say,  ’Ush- 
macush,  alla-magoosh,’  he’d  say;  then  he’d 
turn  round  slow  and  go  into  th’  tent,  and  Del’d 
transulate  what  he’d  said.  Said  it  meant, 
‘Good  mornin’;  th’  spirit  salutes  thee.’  And 
Del  alius  told  th’  people  that  th’  minute  th’ 
Bood-hi  laid  eyes  on  their  beautiful  city  he  said 
it  reminded  him  of  his  native  Tusculum. 

“Well,  sir,  it  was  an  awful  cheat,  but  it  made 
lots  of  money  fer  two  or  three  years,  that  Hindu 
business  did.’’ 


“That  there’s  Sister  Almetty  Fishback.  Don’t 
she  look  like  Marthy  Wash’n’ton,  though? 
Our  folks  can’t  see  it,  but  I think  she’s  th’ 
spittin’  image  of  her. 

“She  don’t  like  pa,  Sister  Metty  don’t,  fer 
one  time  t’  a church  sociable  a stepladder  fell 
over  and  jist  hit  her  a glancin’  lick  on  th’  back, 
and  she  says,  ‘Ouch!’  she  says.  Then  pa,  he 
says,  ‘Why,  Sis  Met,  that  hadn’t  ort  to’ve 
hurt  yuh  none.  Yer  scales  sh’u’d’ve  pertected 
yuh,’  he  says.’’ 


“That  there’s  Otto  Schrader,  an  awful  nice 
man,  but  he  ain’t  got  no  arms,  poor  feller. 
One  time  pa  seen  Otto  go  by  his  offus  and  he 
says  t’  some  fellers  a-loafin’  in  there,  ‘Poor  Ot ! 
he  was  in  here  a-beggin’  last  week,’  he  says. 
‘Git  out!’  says  one  uh  th’  fellers.  ‘Ot  wouldn’t 
beg!  He’s  well  off.’  ‘I  don’t  care  ef  he  is,’  pa 
says;  ‘he  was  in  here  a-beggin’.’  ‘What’d  he 
want?’  says  another  one  uh  th’  fellers.  ‘Wanted 
me  t*  scratch  his  back,’  pa  says,  and  yuh’d 
ort  to’ve  heard  them  fellers  holler  and  laugh!’’ 


“That’s  Claude  Percy  Titmarsh,  a cousin 
uh  pa’s,  but  he’s  dead  now.  He  could  crochet 
tidies  and  play  th’  flute. 

“Turn  over.” 


“That’s  Frank  Trundle,  He  raises  Polan’ 
Chiny  hogs  and  he  looks  purty  much  like  one 
hisself.  Onct  he  had  a sign  painted  on  th’  roof 
uh  his  barn:  Th’  home  uh  th’  Polan’  Chiny 
hog — Frank  Trundle,’  it  said,  weth  his  name 
down  below,  y’  know,  like  yuh  sign  a letter. 
Frank,  he  come  t’  pa  and  ast  him  what  there 
was  about  that  sign  t’  make  people  laugh,  and 
pa,  he  says,  ‘Darned  ef  I know,  Frank.  Fll 
try  and  find  out  fer  yuh,’  he  says;  and  he  had 
Frank  a-trottin’  in  ever’  little  while  fer  six 
months  t’  see  ef  pa  knowed  yit. 

“One  time  a strange  feller  went  t’  th’ 
house  and  ast  Mrs.  Trundle  where  was  Frank, 
and  she  says,  ‘Out  there  amongst  th’  hogs,’ 
she  says.  ‘Yuh’ll  know  him  easy  enough,  fer 
he’s  got  a hat  on,’  she  says.  Leastways,  pa 
says  that  happened,  and  so  does  Uncle  Charley 
Sparks,  only  he  says  it  was  before  th’  flood 
and’s  be’n  told  about  every  fat  farmer  sence. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“Aunt  Jen  Peters,  pa’s  sister,  when  she  was  a 
girl.  She  ain’t  s’  good  lookin’  as  what  Aunt 
Min  is  (her  pitchure’s  in  our  other  album)  but 
pa  says  she’s  got  ten  times  more  brains.  She 
cert’nly  is  most  awful  smart — talented,  ma  calls 
it.  Maybe  sometime  you’ll  hear  her  sing  and 
recite.  Her  best  speakin’  piece,  / think,  is  one 
she  got  out  uh  one  uh  them  books  called,  ‘One 
Hundred  Choice  Selections.’  It’s  called,  ‘Th’ 
Young  Grayhead,’  and  it’s  jist  awful  sad.  Her 
best  singin’  piece,  most  people  thinks,  goes  like 
this : 

“ ‘Are  we  almost  there,  are  we  almost  there  ?’ 
Said  th’  dyin’  girl  as  she  drew  near  home ; 
‘Are  those  our  popular  trees  that  rair 
Their  forms  so  high  ’g’inst  th’  heavens’ 
blue  dome?’ 

“Turn  over.” 


“This  here’s  ma’s  cousin,  Seth  Sparks.  He’s 
handsome,  / think.  Some  folks  says  he  looks 
kind  o’  namby-pamby,  but  them  folks  had  jist 
ort  t’  try  t’  run  over  him  onct ! 

“One  time.  Cousin  Seth,  he  bet  on  Miz 
Hogue  fer  a footrace,  and  somehow  he  heard 
Miz  was  a-goin’  t’  throw  th’  race  t’  th’  other 
feller  and  beat  him  out ’n  his  money;  so,  jist  as 
they  got  lined  up  ready  t’  start,  Seth,  he  steps 
out  by  th’  finish  line  weth  a big  pistol  and 
hollers,  ‘Oh,  Miz!’  Miz,  he  looks  up,  and  Seth 
yells : 

‘Come  in  first  or  yuh  don’t  come  in  a-tall!’ 
he  says. 

“Well,  say!  Miz,  he  didn’t  beat  that  other 
feller  more’n  a rod  or  two.” 


“That's  Mary  Jane  Pemble.  She  ust  t'  be 
Gramma  Sparks’s  hired  girl.  One  time  she  got 
t’  correspondin’  weth  a man  through  a matter- 
mon’al  agency  and  by-m-by  she  agrees  t’ 
marry  th’  feller  wethout  never  seein’  him,  th’ 
silly  thing!  Well,  when  th’  weddin’  day  come 
Mary  was  t’  th’  deepo  t’  meet  him,  and  jist 
as  he  steps  off’m  th’  train  he  drops  dead  uh 
heart  disease.  Mary,  she  took  one  look  at 
him  and  says,  'Thank  God !’  she  says,  and  come 
right  back  home  and  burned  up  her  weddin’ 
dress  in  th’  kitchen  stove. 

“Pa  says  what  ailed  th’  feller  was  th’  shock 
when  he  seen  Mary.” 


“This  here’s  J.  Tilford  Judd,  th’  dentist. 
He’s  an  awful  smart  feller — never  had  no  lessons 
in  th’  trade  but  jist  edjacated  hisself,  till  now 
he’s  a reg’lar  scientificist.  He  ust  t’  be  a 
barber. 

“Turn  over.” 


“That’s  John  Knox  Whittleberry,  that  ust  t* 
preach  here — that  is,  he  said  that  was  his  name. 
Pa  says  he  bets  he  was  a feller  knowed  t’  th' 
police  by  sev’ral  differ’nt  names.  Anyhow,  he 
was  a disgrace  t’  th’  preachin’  business  and  had 
t’  skip  out  after  a few  months,  ’count  uh  people 
learnin’  his  habits  wasn’t  good.  See!  he’s 
a-holdin’  one  of  them  cigaroots  in  his  hand  in 
th’  pitchure,  and  pa  says  anybody  that’ll  smoke 
them  things’ 11  suck  aigs.  But  ma,  she  liked 
his  sermons  and  says  she  pities  th’  poor,  mis- 
guided wretch,  so  she  keeps  his  pitchure  here, 
‘as  a warnin’  t’  other  young  men,’  she  says. 
Pa,  he  makes  a snorin’  noise  when  she  says  that. 

‘One  time  pa  went  into  a hotel  in  Peory  and 
ketched  Whittleberry  takin’  a drink  uh  liquor, 
and  he  says  t’  him,  real  solemn,  ‘Oh!  Rev’runt 
Whittleberry,  what  a shock  this  is  t’  me ! Why, 
I couldn’t  ’a’  be’n  more  supprised ef  I’d  ketched 
th’  Angel  Gabriel  chawin'  tobacker,’  he  says.’’ 


“That’s  me.  It  was  took  more’n  a year  ago, 
on  Decoration  Day.  I remember  that  because 
it  was  th’  day  I got  off  a good  one  on  pa’s 
cousin,  Charley  Freemantle — a soldier,  ef  ever 
there  was  one,  pa  says,  meanin’  he  don’t  like 
work,  yuh  know.  Charley,  he  was  settin’  in 
th’  parlor,  a-blowin’  about  th’  great  things  he 
was  a~goin’  t’  do,  and  I ups  and  says,  ‘Huh!’ 
I says,  ‘goin’  to  and  done  it’s  two  differ’nt 
matters,’  I says. 

“Well,  sir,  you’d  jist  ort  to’ve  heard  ’m 
laugh — all  but  Charley.  Ma,  she  led  me  out 
uh  there  by  th’  ear,  but  when  we  got  t’  th’ 
kitchen  she  kissed  me  and  gimme  a nickel. 

“I  don’t  like  this  pitchureone  bit.  Did  yuh 
ever  see  a niggerer  one  in  all  yer  born  days? 

Turn  over.” 


“That  there’s  young  Adoniram  Burgstresser, 
old  Ad’s  son.  You  ain’t  never  saw  him, 
though,  have  yuh?  His  pitchure’s  in  our  other 
album. 

“He  ain’t  real  smart,  young  Ad  ain’t — reg’lar 
chucklehead,  if  yuh  must  know  th’  truth.  One 
time  pa  and  Charley  Freemantle  got  t’  arguin’ 
about  Ad,  and  pa  says,  ‘Git  out!’  he  says,  ‘yuh 
can’t  tell  me  nothin’  about  that  lad.  I’ve 
knowed  him  ever  sence  they  whittled  him  out’n 
wood,’  he  says. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“Aunt  Mary  Bailey,  that  is.  Ain’t  she  nice? 
She’s  a Quaker,  only,  as  pa  says,  she  don’t  work 
at  it  very  hard,  fer  she  will  primp  up  some,  and 
them  people’s  gener’ly  real  plain  dressers,  yuh 
know. 

“But  she  can’t  abide  noisy  church  doin’s. 
Aunt  Mary  can’t.  One  time  she  was  to  a re- 
vival and  old  Bill  Pinckney  come  a rip-roarin’ 
down  th’  aisle  and  stopped  besides  her,  and 
hollers,  ‘Oh,  Sister  Bailey,  won’t  yuh  lift  up 
yer  voice  untuh  th’  Lor-r-d?’  And  Aunt  Mary, 
she  jist  says  back,  quiet  like,  ‘Does  thee  think 
th’  Lord  is  deef,  William?’  she  says. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“Doc  Prentice,  a feller  you  won’t  like  s’  very 
well,  like’s  not,  fer  he  ain’t  sure  there’s  no  here- 
after. But  he’s  an  awful  good  doctor  and  gives 
more  t’  th’  churches  than  most  uh  th’  members. 

“Pa,  he  likes  Doc  powerful  well — likes  t’ 
drive  him  round  th’  country  so’s  they  kin  talk 
together  between  places.  One  time  they  was 
out  t’  Twitchells’,  a fambly  that  pa  says  enjoys 
poor  health  better’n  they  would  good.  Doc, 
he’d  got  out  onto  th’  porch  t’  come  away,  where 
he  was  helt  up  by  one  uh  th’  girls  and  th’  hired 
man,  when  pa  hollers,  ‘Hurry  up,  ,Doc,  here 
comes  th’  dog  in  from  the  barn,’  he  says. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


I 


“Martin  Estey,  that  is,  a secont  cousin  uh 
pa’s.  He’s  th’  slowest  talkin’  feller  a-livin,’ 
I guess.  Pa  says  one  time  Mart  and  his  pa  was 
out  in  th’  field  and  somethin’  got  th’  matter 
weth  th’  binder.  Mart  was  monkeyin’  weth 
th’  thing,  a-tryin’  t’  fix  it,  when  th’  horses 
started  up  and  run  th’  needle  right  smack 
through  Mart’s  hand ; and  Mart,  he  drawls  out, 
‘Hold— on — paw — I’m — caught,’  he  says. 

“Mart’s  awful  close,  too.  He’s  runnin’  th’ 
ice  cream  parlor  over  t’  Yates  City  now,  and 
he’s  got  a swarm  uh  bees  in  th’  upstairs  part. 
A while  back  he  come  into  pa’s  offus  and  hung 
round  fer  a spell  wethout  say  in’  nothin’,  but 
by-m-by  he  says,  whiny-like,  ‘Merv,  them  bees 
is  a-cheatin’  me.  They’re  a-puttin’  more’n  a 
pound  uh  honey  in  a comb,’  he  says.’’ 


“Here's  Imogene  Penelope  Lounsbury,  th’ 
poetess.  She  went  t'  school  weth  ma  and  comes 
here  now  and  then,  and  stays  awhile,  and  her 
and  ma  has  what  pa  calls  ‘a  reg’lar,  world  re- 
formin' debauch.'  She  wrote: 

“‘Oh!  crush,  crush,  crush 
This  bleedin'  heart ! 

And  in  thy  crushin'  triumph — ' 

“I  don't  know  th'  rest  of  it,  but  it's  awful 
good  po’try;  reminds  a body  of  Tennyson  and 
Will  Carleton. 

“Pa,  he  don't  like  Imogene,  'cause  she’s  a 
woman’s  righter  and  W.  C.  T.  U.  One  time, 
after  arguin'  weth  Immy,  pa  says,  ‘Well,  Im,  I 
hope  / don't  live  t'  see  prohibition,'  and  Immy, 
she  comes  right  back  weth,  ‘So  do  I,  Merv,  fer 
you'd  be  most  awful  out  uh  place  and  lonesome,' 
she  says.  That  made  pa  s'  mad  he  jist  fairly 
raired  up." 


’This  here’s  Billy  Perdue,  th’  grain  dealer. 
He  made  forty  thousand  dollars  off’m  oats  and 
nothin’  would  do  but  he  must  git  right  t’  Chi- 
cago and  go  into  th’  business  big.  Pa  says, 
‘Don’t  yuh  never  do  it,  Billy,’  he  says.  Them 
Chicago  fellers’ll  have  your  ashpan  a-draggin’ 
in  about  a week.” 

‘‘Well,  he  went,  and  about  two  months  after 
that  th’  door  uh  pa’s  offus  opens  one  mornin’ 
and  in  comes  Billy.  He  takes  a chair  by  th 
stove  and  says,  ‘Well,  Merv,  she’s  a-draggin’,* 
he  says.” 


“Here’s  my  Uncle  Ben,  pa’s  brother.  He’s 
editor  of  th’  Yates  City  Palladium,  and  he’s 
purty  nigh  as  witty  as  what  pa  is,  and  that’s 
a-sayin’  a good  deal,  I want  yuh  t’  know. 

“One  time  he  wrote  a piece  in  th’  paper, 
Uncle  Ben  did,  about  how  fur  it  had  went.  ‘We 
guess,’  he  says,  ‘th’  supscribers  t’  this  little  sheet 
don’t  know  how  fur  she  journeys  every  week. 
She  goes  t’  New  York,  t’  San  Francisco,  t’  Chiny, 
and  some  weeks  we  have  trouble  t’  keep  her 
from  goin’  t’  th’  bad  place’ — only  that  ain’t 
what  he  called  it,  yuh  know.’’ 


“That  there’s  Elmer  Boody,  a feller  ’t  ust  t’ 
live  in  this  town,  but  now  he  lives  at  Kansas. 
Gramma  Sparks  and  his  ma  was  fourth  cousins, 
I guess  it  was. 

“Onct  Elmer  got  sick  and  staid  that  way  a 
long  time  and  didn’t  git  no  better,  and  by-m-by 
when  he  went  t’  Eureky  Springs,  why  he  took 
his  grave  clothes  weth  him,  he  was  that  dis- 
couraged, poor  feller.  But  purty  soon  he  begun 
t’  git  better,  ’cause  they  was  a young  widduh 
down  there  that  he  fell  in  love  weth,  and  married 
her.  That’s  her  weth  him  in  th’  pitchure,  took 
th’  day  they  was  married.  That  suit’s  th’ 
one  he  expected  t’  be  laid  out  in. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“That’s  Myron  Petty — ‘th’  prize  opter- 
mist,’  pa  calls  him.  Talk  about  countin’  yer 
chickens  before  they’re  hatched!  Percy  counts 
hisn,  pa  says,  before  th’  hens  is  hatched  that’s 
a-goin’  t’  lay  th’  aigs. 

“One  time,  when  My  was  a-runnin’  fer 
postmaster  (he  was  jist  sure  he’d  git  it,  but 
ever’body  else  knowed  he  didn’t  have  no  chanct), 
a feller  went  t’  his  house  one  day  and  ast  fer 
him,  and  Mrs.  Petty  says,  ‘Why,  he’s  around 
here  some  ’eres — out  t’  th’  barn,  I guess.’ 
So  th’  feller,  he  goes  t’  th’  barn  and  looks  around, 
but  My  ain’t  there;  then,  bein’  as  he  hears  a 
big  cacklin’  in  th’  henhouse,  he  goes  and  looks 
in,  and  there’s  My,  goin’  round  weth  an 
armful  uh  cobs  and  throwin’  ’m  into  th’  hens* 
nests  and  sayin’:  ‘H.  C.  Tucker,  Ot  Burt, 

William  Lucas’ — a name  ever’  time  he  throwed 
a cob.  Yuh  see,  he  was  practicin’  disturbitin’ 
th’  mail.’’ 


“That’s  Nels  Quist.  He  ust  t’  be  Uncle 
Jerry  Sparks’s  hired  man.  Onct  he  was  down 
t’  Peory  and  he  seen  some  nightshirts  in  a store 
winduh,  and  liked ’m,  but  he  didn’t  know  what 
they  was.  He  went  inside  and  says,  ‘How  much 
ban  dem  shirt?’  ‘Them’s  nightshirts,’  says  th’ 
man.  Nels  thought  he  said  ^nice  shirts,’  and 
he  says,  ‘Jou  bet,  by  gol;  Ay’ll  take  two,’  he 
says. 

“Well,  sir,  he  took  and  wore  one  t’  a dance. 
Pa  says  when  Nels  got  that  long  tail  tucked  into 
his  spring  bottom  pants  he  was  the  comicalest 
sight  yuh  ever  see.  Nels  didn’t  wear  no  neck- 
tie, ’cause  that  would  ’a’  hid  th’  embroid’ry. 
It  said  ‘good  night’  on  th’  buttons.  Folks  made 
fun  of  Nels  somethin’  awful,  and  pa  says  if  Nels 
heard  two  fellers  say  ‘good  night’  t’  each  other 
after  that  fer  a year  they  was  both  liable  t’  have 
t’  fight  him. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“That  there’s  Dan  Twigg,  a sort  of  a cousin, 
or  somethin’,  of  pa’s.  He’s  a purty  good  feller, 
as  a rule,  but  now  ’n’  then  he  will  git  on  a spree, 
and  then  he  alius  gits  into  trouble.  One  time, 
in  Peory,  he  come  along  t’  where  there  was  a lot 
uh  apples  in  a winduh,  and  a sign  say  in’,  ‘One 
thousand  dollars  t’  anybody  findin’  a worm  in 
these  apples.’  Dan,  he  goes  right  in  and  com- 
mences huntin,’  ^nd  before  they  ketched  him 
he’d  bit  open  half  a bar’l  of ’m.  He  got  fined 
ten  dollars  fer  it,  and  I think  it  was  kinda 
mean,  ’cause  how  in  ’nation  was  a feller  t’  find 
a worm  wethout  they  let  him  look  fer  it? 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“This  here’s  Billy  Riley  and  his  wife.  He 
ust  t’  keep  th’  Ne  Plus  Ultry  livery-stable 
down  town,  and  one  time  when  pa  was  a- 
feelin’  funny  he  stops  in  there  when  there  was  a 
crowd  uh  loafers  hangin’  round,  and  sings  out 
t’  Billy: 

“ ‘Is  this  Mr.  Riley  they  speak  of  so  highly, 
Is  this  Mr.  Riley  that  keeps  th’  hotel?’ 
“And  Billy,  he  says,  ‘Only  fer  horses,'  he 
says,  ‘but  yuh  kin  sleep  here  ef  you're  dead 
set  on  doin'  it.'  And  he  took  and  thro  wed  pa 
into  a manger  and  covered  him  up  weth  a lot  uh 
old  straw.  Pa  come  home  jist  hoppin’  mad,  weth 
his  hair  and  whiskers  full  uh  chaff  and  stuff, 
and  ma  says,  ‘Merv  Peters,  won’t  yuh  never 
learn  nothin’?'  she  says.  ‘I’ve  alius  noticed 
that  jokers  is  th’  poorest  hands  t'  take  jokes,’ 
she  says.’’ 


“That  there's  Lem  Arnold,  a cousin  uh  ma's. 
He’s  kind  of  a meek  lookin’  feller,  but  he’s  got 
a turribul  temper  and’s  alius  goin’  t’  fight 
somebody.  But  he  alius  backs  out  when  th’ 
time  comes,  though.  Pa  says  Lem’s  got  lots 
uh  valyer  but  a blamed  sight  more  discreetion, 
whatever  them  words  means;  says,  pa  does, 
that  Lem’s  alius  a-settin’  out  t’  lick  some  feller, 
‘both  ends  in  th’  air  and  stummick  draggin’ 
th’  ground,  like  a hog  goin’  t’  war.’  Pa’s  jist 
a little  bit  coarse  sometimes,  / think,  but  ma 
says  all  them  humorists  is. 

“There’s  one  thing  Lem  can  do,  though,  when 
he’s  a mind  tuh,  and  that’s  sing.  It’d  do  yer 
heart  good  t’  hear  him  sing  about  Charles 
Gittaw.  It  goes  like  this: 

“ ‘My  name  is  Charles  Gittaw, 

My  name  I’ll  ne’er  deny; 

I’ll  leave  my  dear  old  par-runts 
In  sorruh  fer  t’  die. 

“ ‘Oh,  little  did  I think. 

When  in  my  youthful  bloom. 

That  to  th’  scuffle  I must  go 
Fer  t’  meet  my  fatal  doom.’ 

“There’s  more,  but  I fergit. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“This  here’s  Donie  Sedjwick,  th’  lady  that 
wore  a baird  in  th’  show,  y’  know.  Onct  ma 
was  showin’  this  pitchure  t’  some  comp’ny  and 
she  says : ‘This  is  a war-time  pitchure  of 
Cousin  Donie  Sedjwick,’  and  pa  puts  in,  ‘Uh- 
huh;  looks  like  it;  what  battles  was  she  in?’ 
Ma,  she  wouldn’t  speak  t’  him  all  th’  rest  uh 
that  mortal  day. 

“Donie,  she  stood  that  bairded  lady  business 
purty  good,  but  when  it  played  out  and  Trace 
took  and  spotted  her  up  weth  blackwalnut 
juice  and  had  her  stand  out  on  th’  platform, 
wrapped  up  in  a leopard  skin,  while  he  hollers, 
‘Wi-i-i-ld  Rose,  of  a Madagascar  tribe  of  head- 
hunters; considered  a great  beauty  in  her  own 
land — but  she’s  a lo-o-ng  ways  from  home,’ 
she  wouldn’t  stand  th’  show  business  no  more, 
so  they  quit  and  went  t’  firin’  on  th’  railroad — 
leastways.  Trace  did. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“This  here's  Fred  Peters,  Uncle  Ben's  boy. 
He's  an  awful  good  feller,  but  fast.  Pa  says 
Maud  S.  is  Januhwary  m'lasses  compared  t’ 
him;  says  Fred's  what  yuh  might  call  a reg'lar 
Jim-dandy  lobloller. 

“One  time,  why  Fred,  he  went  into  a revival 
meetin’  one  night,  and  he  hadn’t  set  there 
more’n  a minute  till  he  begun  t'  cry.  Then 
there  was  a turribul  t’  do.  All  th’  good  people 
gathered  round  Fred  and  prayed  fer  him  and 
cried  weth  him,  and  Fred,  he  signed  th'  pledge. 
Next  day  Rev'runt  Dinwiddle  meets  Fred  on 
th'  street  and  grabs  him  by  th'  hand  and  says,  , 
‘Oh ! Brother  Peters,  you  filled  our  hearts  weth 
joy  last  night — th’  old  church  never  witnessed 
a more  blessed  occasion’.  And  Fred,  he  smiled 
a kind  of  a sickish  grin  and  says,  ‘Was  that 
where  I was?’  he  says.” 


“Harry  Van  Pelt,  that  is.  He’s  a grocer,  but 
pa  says  a man  weth  a name  like  that  had  ort 
t’  be  in  th’  hide  and  fur  business.  Don’t  ast 
me  what  that  means ! 

“One  time  Harry  and  pa  and  a lot  uh  other 
fellers  went  t’  a lodge  convention  t’  Chicago,  and 
one  mornin*  Mrs.  Van  Pelt  got  a telegram  from 
pa,  sayin’,  ‘Harry  passed  away  at  one  o’clock 
this  mornin’.  Meet  remains  on  four  o’clock 
train.’ 

“Well,  sir,  there  was  jist  a turribul  crowd  t’ 
th’  deepo  and  they  hadn’t  no  more’n  got  th’ 
box  off’m  th’  train  till  there  was  a turribul  hol- 
lerin’ and  kickin’  in  it.  Th’  deepo  agent  took 
and  prized  th’  cover  off  and  Harry  set  up,  all 
dressed  in  his  lodge  unyform,  weth  his  orstrich- 
feather  hat  tied  under  his  chin  and  tipped  down 
over  one  eye.  He  was  th’  comicalest  lookin’ 
sight  yuh  ever  seen.  His  wife,  she  give  one 
look,  then  she  says,  ‘Well,  pa  Van  Pelt,  ef  you 
ain’t  a fright!’’  she  says.  Then  she  busted  out 
laughin’  fit  t’  kill. 

“Pa,  he  dodged  Mrs.  Van  Pelt  fer  a spell,  but 
she  never  was  mad  at  him.  Said  it  served 
Harry  right.’’ 


“Het  Simpkins.  She  ust  t’  work  fer  Uncle 
Mel  Burgstresser’s,  but  they  told  her  they 
guessed  they  wouldn’t  want  her  no  more  and 
she  got  mad  and  quit. 

“Turn  over.” 


-“Here’s  Cha’ncey  Sparks,  ma's  cousin,  but 
she  ain’t  s’  very  proud  of  it.  Yuh  see.  Chance 
is  crookeder’n  a ram’s  horn.  Th’  last  thing  he 
done  was  t’  put  up  a lot  uh  feesh,  down  t’  Copp’- 
ras  Crick  dam,  in  cans,  and  labeled ’m : ‘Finest 
Sackermento  River  Salmon,  warranted  not  t’ 
turn  pink  in  th’  can.’  He’s  at  it  yit,  and  pa 
says  he  wouldn’t  wonder  ef  he’d  make  a forchun 
at  it. 

“Turn  over.’’ 


“Pa’s  cousin,  Berry  Gill.  He  ain’t  only  a 
third  cousin  and  he  lives  t’  Chicago.  They 
make ’m  pay  dog  tax  up  there.  Berry,  he  paid 
hisn  last  year  and  right  after  that  th’  dog  up 
and  died;  and  would  yuh  believe  it?  they 
wouldn’t  give  him  his  money  back.  He  said 
he’d  sue  th’  town,  but  I ain’t  never  heard  how 
it  come  out. 

“Berry’s  th’  greatest  hand  fer  lodges  yuh  ever 
see;  b’longs  t’  most  all  of  ’m,  I guess — reg’lar 
j’iner,  as  th’  sayin’  is.  Pa  says  one  time  Berry 
wasn’t  feelin’  very  good  and  staid  t’  homie  a spell. 
They  had  a young  minister  in  their  church  and 
he  come  t’  see  Berry.  Whilst  he  was  settin’  there 
Berry  fainted  away.  Th’  preacher  thought  he 
was  dyin’  and  he  turns  t’  Mrs.  Gill  as  she  come 
into  th’  room  and  says,  ‘ I think  our  dear  brother 
is  about  t’  j’in  th’  Heavenly  Host.’  Berry  was 
jist  a-comin’  to,  and  kind  o’ half  heard  him,  and 
he  says,  real  faint,  ‘What’s  th’  dues?’  he  says.” 


“And  this  here’s  Abner  Perdue  and  his  wife. 
They’re  in  our  church,  so  you’re  bound  t' 
know ’m  purty  soon.  And  ef  you  kin  git  money 
out  uh  him,  you’re  a brick! 

“He’s  a turribul  hand  t’  stutter,  too.'  Pa  says 
it's  because  he’s  so  close  that  he  hates  t’  leggo 
of  a word,  even;  says,  too,  pa  does,  that  when 
th’  congergation’s  through  singin’  th’  Doxol- 
oger,  Abner’s  jist  about  through  weth  th’  first 
line;  says  that  t’  set  next  t’  Ab  when  he  comes 
t’  that  word  ‘whom’  you’d  think  he  was  an 
in-gine  whistlin’  fer  a cow  on  th’  track. 

“Well,  here  we  are,  clean  through  at  last,  and 
I’ll  bet  you’re  dog  tired.!  No?  Well,  I’m  glad 
uh  that.  Must  yuh  go  now?  Well,  say.  I’m 
awful  sorry  ma  wasn’t  t’  home.  Reckon  we’ll 
all  see  yuh  t’  th’  dime  sociable  t’night?  Course, 
we’re  all  glad  you’ve  come;  but  we  jist  nacherly 
can’t  help  a-missin’  Rev’runt  Dinwiddie  fer  a 
spell.  He  was  sich  a nice  man.  Ust  t’  buy  us 
childern  ice  cream,  and  ever’thing. 

“Well,  good-bye.  Come  ag’in.’’ 


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